


A Bunker Thanksgiving

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Thanksgiving, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1-shot. It’s Thanksgiving at the bunker as Sam struggles with what’s weakening him and Dean cooks their first real holiday meal in their new home while Kevin wonders if the turkey or Dean is possessed. *Limp/slightly sick!Sam & Protective/big brother!Dean with appearance from Kevin. Set after 09x08 A Rock & A Hard Place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bunker Thanksgiving

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mild language but nothing too serious.  
> Tags/Spoilers: It takes place after 09x08 A Rock and A Hard Place but only contains minor spoilers but to be on the safe side don’t read until after you see it.   
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. This is written for the enjoyment of fans.  
> Author Note: A little Thanksgiving piece for all those who are celebrating Thanksgiving. Enjoy and thanks for reading!

“Your brother is obsessively insane!” Kevin Tran dropped the books he was carrying and the stone tablet onto a table before dropping himself into one of the chairs.

“Huh? What?” Sam Winchester’s head jerked up at the unexpected noise, waking up suddenly and having to try to remember where he was, who was yelling and why the hell his head felt like a jackhammer was going off in it.

A look around told the young hunter that he must have dozed off with his head pillowed on his arm at one of the tables in the library so that took care of figuring out why he was waking up. Now he just needed to decipher what Kevin was ranting around. The fact that his brother’s name kept coming up tipped the scale to that answer.

“How long have you known Dean, Kevin?” Sam asked, scrubbing both hands over his face to try to get some of the grit his eyes felt like they had in them out. “Haven’t you figured out how he is yet?”

“I know he’s an arrogant, hardassed, stubborn, son of a bitch. I just didn’t know he was six steps away from the funny farm until today!” Kevin yelled, slumping back in his seat to raise a hand when a single eyebrow just lifted in mild warning.

The prophet might still be new to all this crazy crap but the one thing that he’d picked up quickly about the Winchesters was while they might fight like cats and dogs, or brothers, they did not and would not allow anyone else to insult the other one.

“Fine, yeah, sorry, Sam,” Kevin muttered. “Just tired. I’m stuck on the tablet and your brother won’t even let me near the kitchen to grab the chips,” he complained bitterly. “Just says it’ll ruin my dinner. What dinner? All I could see is him trying to exorcise what I think used to be a turkey.”

Sam was about to comment that since his older brother had discovered his ‘nesting’ qualities that the kitchen was usually off limits unless you were asking for trouble when the other side of Kevin’s comment caught him and he stared. “He was what?”

“There’s some sort of dead bird on the counter and I swear your brother was speaking Latin so I’m guessing he thinks it needs exorcised,” Keven shrugged, going over to where he’d hid a bag of chips in among the encyclopedias; the one shelf he was positive that Dean Winchester would not go near. “Since when does Dean cook anyway?”

“Since we got a kitchen,” Sam pushed to his feet, having to keep his hands flat on the table until his balance returned and could feel the shorter man’s concerned gaze but waved it away. “He likes to say he’s nesting. As for the Latin, a couple of times back at Bobby’s there were…incidents with some food so Dean’s probably not taking any chances. I’m not sure what he’s cooking a turkey for.”

Finding the page he’d left on, Kevin smirked. “Probably because today’s Thanksgiving and normal people eat turkey, Sam,” he sought to point out, adding. “From what little I saw before he kicked me out it looks like Dean has the fixings for the whole spread, including stuffing and something he plans to use little marshmallows with.”

“He’s got those?” Sam smiled a little but decided to risk it and go see what was happening in the kitchen and hope he didn’t need to find a shotgun to shoot another damn possessed turkey with.

He suspected he might know what the little marshmallows were for, recalling a memory from his childhood when he was just learning to feed himself and a lady at one of the motels they’d been staying at supplied Dean with some fluffy marshmallow, whipped topping and pineapple dessert that Sam recalled trying to use both hands to eat.

There were few good holiday memories for Sam but the ones he did have almost always included his older brother and the things Dean did to make it as good as possible given their circumstances. The last couple years had been hard, especially last year since Dean had been stuck in Purgatory and Sam had suffered through those holidays alone basically.

Stepping to the kitchen door, he smelled food that made his stomach growl and remind him that he hadn’t been eating all that much over the last week. “Hey, Kevin says you’re exorcising the bird. Did it need put down like that one of Bobby’s?” he asked as he entered, hearing his brother snort but also caught the shotgun that was sitting off in the corner. “Dean? You didn’t actually shoot another one, did you?”

“No but if that damn thing would’ve twitched when I doused it with Holy Water then I might’ve and keep your fingers off those marshmallows or I will slap you with a spoon,” Dean warned from where he stood with his back to Sam, dicing potatoes.

“You’re not looking at me. How’d you know where my hand was?” Sam asked curiously, poking his nose into the large box style refrigerator to see his brother must have been up early. “What’s all this for, Dean?”

“To the first question, if there are little marshmallows and you in the same room then I know what you’re going to be into,” Dean returned, tossing a smirk over his shoulder and then rolled his eyes while shutting the door. “As for the other, it’s Thanksgiving and since we have an actual kitchen I thought I’d give it a try.”

Usually when it was just them they’d eat at a diner or someplace but cooking for Sam and now Kevin seemed to make Dean happy and that made Sam happy. Plus he couldn’t deny that his brother was a damn good cook. “Umm, cooking an actual Thanksgiving mean is a bit different than burgers.”

“And now he doubts me,” Dean scoffed, wiping his hands before reaching out on instinct to card his fingers back through the hair that kept falling in Sam’s eyes and also allowed him to feel for a fever. “Your big brother can handle this, Sammy,” he grinned, then winked at the cellphone on the counter. “I’ve also got Sheriff Mills on speed dial if anything…comes up.”

“Now I feel better,” Sam smiled, going to turn to see what else was cooking when his legs suddenly wobbled and only a quick arm around his chest kept him standing. “Damn. I…”

“Sit down,” Dean forgot what he was doing the moment he saw his brother start to go down and silently cursed whatever the hell was happening inside of Sam. “You okay?” he asked, concerned the longer it went that Sam appeared to be getting weaker rather than stronger.

Taking a couple deep breaths, Sam slowly nodded; starting when he felt a cold cloth pressed over the back of his neck and hadn’t even realized his brother had moved. “Dean…I’m scared.”

That admission told Dean just how bad Sam was feeling because even while his little brother had always been the more open and emotional one of them it took an awful lot to get Sam to admit to being scared, especially to his big brother.

In truth, Dean was beyond scared but he couldn’t let on to Sam that he was. He couldn’t let on to Sam that he knew a little of what was going on but he also couldn’t let on how much he was beginning to have his doubts about the damn Angel he let possess his brother in order to save his life.

So in the end all Dean could do is the same thing he always did when Sam was hurt enough to admit to being scared or sick to the point where he was too tired to stay awake…he faked it.

“There’s no reason for you to be scared, little brother. I’m here. I’m with you and I’ll make it good,” Dean hoped Sam was tired enough to not catch the tiny muscle movement in his jaw and around his eye that always happened when he was tense and hiding it. “But for right now, you’re going to go lay down and actually sleep in a bed while I get this stuff cooked.”

“No, I can help you or help Kevin or…” Sam tried to argue when he found himself pulled to his feet and aimed down the hall toward his room. “Or I could try to sleep.”

“Right choice there, Geek boy,” Dean chuckled, keeping an eye on Sam until he saw him go into one of the bedrooms and felt a small catch in his throat because his brother chose Dean’s room rather than his own newly redecorated one to sleep in for the moment. “I am Holy oiling that angel’s ass if he’s hurting my brother.”

By the time Sam woke back up he wasn’t certain what time it was and he hated losing time like he was or sleeping as much as he was. A light had been turned on over on the desk which told him that Dean had been by to check on him and as he sat up slowly he smelled food and could hear Dean and Kevin bickering over dishes and hand washing.

Sam went to move when his eyes caught the card laying under his hand. He eyed it with a frown since he knew normally Dean didn’t do cards but as he pulled it out to see a bright card with a picture of a big eyed Pilgrim on the front he felt himself smile.

It faltered a little when he opened the card to see his brother’s handwriting. “‘ _I know you’re going to go pure puppy dog eyes over this so I left it for you to see when you woke up. I know it’s been hard on you, Sammy. I know you’re scared and confused as to what’s happening but I also know that I will find a way to make whatever is wrong go away soon._

“‘ _I missed last Thanksgiving with you and Jody said he refused to spend it with her because you said you didn’t want to ruin her holiday so I hope to make some of that up to you. Y’know how in school the teachers always asked us to list five things we were thankful for? These are mine: #5- my life because I’m not stuck in Hell’s backyard this year. #4-my friends…alright what few friends we can still claim.  #3-a home even though I know it’s still hard for you to accept the bunker as that. I do hope you will one day. #2- my car which doesn’t even need a reason and the #1 thing I am always thankful for is you, little brother._

“‘ _I was blessed with the best little brother the day Mom had you and no matter how much we fight you will always be the one thing I have that I will fight for. That said, permission granted for a huge chick flick moment. Dean._ ’”

Sam wasn’t aware of the tears running down his face until he felt fingers brushing them away, grasping the wrist tightly and wishing it was easier to say the words he wanted to.

“I know you do, Sammy,” Dean assured him quietly, crouching down to meet his brother’s wide eyes with tears making them liquid pools of hazel. “I love you too, baby brother…but if you ever tell Kevin I said that I will so end you.”

“He thinks you’re insane for exorcising the turkey so I think he’ll overlook it,” Sam hiccupped a little, feeling Dean sit beside him. “You really mean that you’re still…”

“We’re brothers, Sam. No matter what else happens, no one can take that away from us and no one will take you away from me so yeah, I meant it,” Dean replied, knowing he’d crossed the no chick flick moments rule but since he’d given Sam permission he couldn’t bitch too much. “Now, you awake enough to try to eat before Kev chews his own arm off or do you just want me to put a plate aside for when you wake up again?”

The choice between sleeping and eating was huge but Sam wanted his family, he wanted to actually sit down and eat a real Thanksgiving dinner with his family and so would force himself to stay awake for that. “No, let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

“Of course you are. There’s nothing better for you than your big brother’s home cooking,” Dean grinned, steading Sam when he stood and not letting on when he felt his brother’s fingers clasping his sleeve like Sam would do as a kid. “Assuming Kevin didn’t break the dishes I found.”

“Does this place have a dishwasher?” Kevin demanded looking up from placing the third place setting out. “Who does the dishes when you make that big a mess in the kitchen?”

The brothers looked at each other as one and shared a small smile before they both gazed back at the Prophet who wasn’t stupid enough to not know that look and groaned.

“Sorry, Kevin. Rule was always he who cooked didn’t clean so it fell to the other person or the person with least seniority and now that is you so…you’ll be doing dishes,” Dean smirked, loading the plates with himself so he was certain both his brother and Kevin would eat.

“You seriously want to let Kevin loose in your perfectly organized kitchen, Dean?” Sam brought up, tasting the mashed potatoes and nearly groaning as his hunger set in fully at the buttery flavor. “You do tend to get a bit…”

“Obsessed,” Kevin finished helpfully from behind a forkful of sweet potatoes as he was aimed with a glare. “Face it, dude. You are a bit anal about that kitchen and…”

Dean waved a hand and sat down with a mutter. “Fine, I’ll put the stuff away but you’re still washing the dishes, Kevin,” he conceded, hiding his smile behind his hand as he watched his brother eating.

Kevin ate with gusto but he also observed the little things that he figured no one else except someone who knew Dean and Sam well would’ve caught.

It was never a question that Dean got the chair at the head of the table because in Kevin’s mind the elder Winchester was the head of this very dysfunctional family but he also noticed the subtle little ways that Dean got Sam to keep eating without even being aware of what his brother was doing.

As someone who had seen the Winchesters bicker and had seen them close ranks against the world, he understood there was an unspoken bond there that no one would ever touch or break and realized how thankful he was to be included in their family in any small way.

By the time dessert was served, Kevin had eaten more than he thought he had in months and was sure Sam felt the same way except he caught the small smile when the fluffy bowl of pineapple, whipped topping and baby marshmallows was placed in front of him.

“Eat this and then you can crash for the rest of the day while Kev and I clean up the kitchen,” Dean told him quietly after serving Kevin an equally large portion of the fluff but kept his hand on the back of Sam’s neck like he would when knowing his brother was getting tired.

“I still love this stuff,” Sam murmured after eating a second bowl and finally easing back to look up. “What about Crowley?”

Kevin blinked and Dean paused in scraping the plates. “What about Crowley?” he returned blankly, seeing the small bitchface on Sam’s face and groaning. “He’s a demon, Sam.”

“It’s Thanksgiving, Dean,” Sam countered, turning to his best weapon against his brother’s stubbornness and let the dreaded puppy eyes come out. “Even Crowley should be offered something.”

“He’s a demon,” Dean repeated, fighting the pull of the damn look he still hated himself for teaching his brother to use. “Do demons even eat?”

“People,” Kevin piped up and then escaped to the kitchen when Sam shot him those eyes.

“Dean,” Sam dropped his tone and knew he’d won when his brother’s shoulders dropped.

“Fine, you can take the former King of Hell a plate but you take it and leave,” Dean sighed, hating the puppy eyes of doom but when it combined with the quiet voice he was always done for. “Five minutes, Sammy.”

Sam let Dean make the plate, paper this time, with a simple plastic spoon that couldn’t be used as a weapon should the demon get the idea to try and entered the room in the dungeon where they’d been keeping the now ex-King of Hell locked up.

“Hello, Moose,” Crowley greeted with his usual tone and snark. “Come to tell me how life in the real world is getting on or…what’s this?”

“It’s Thanksgiving and I figure even you, or at least the human side of you that I saw in that Church, should be able to have some turkey,” Sam shrugged, pushing the plate across the table and stepping back. “Dean’ll be back for it later so you can eat it if you want or if you can and if not he’ll get it.”

The demon frowned as he stared at the food, watching Sam’s back as he reached the door. “Moose…” he broke off, motioning with his manacled hands to the offered plate and appeared to be struggling with words that seemed unnatural to him.

“You’re welcome,” Sam returned, closing the door and made his way back to the casual room that housed a leather sofa, more bookcases and the newly installed pool table that Sam still didn’t want to know where Dean had found that at to lay down on the sofa.

He could pick up the sounds from the kitchen of his brother and Kevin and he fell to sleep with a small smile on his face as he thought of his first real Thanksgiving in the bunker and wondered if he could talk Dean into a real tree as he drifted off to sleep fully; happy for the first time in a long time.

**The End**


End file.
